Telling Words: Short Stories
by Fayrandothneil
Summary: Not One Shots! Short Stories, each one has a beginning and an ending. #1-Of a Father. Feel free to review and give suggestions for a re-write. Ratings will very.
1. 1-Of a Father

**This is a collection of Short Stories! Not One Shots. These are complete stories with a beginning and an ending, or at least to the best of my ability to give them endings. **

**This is short #1, the summary is this: Jack has always known that ghosts are evil, there is no question about it, but what happens when Phantom says something to make him think otherwise. **

**This is not a revelation story, this is a 'planting a small idea of the revelation in Jack's head' story.**

**Reviews are more then welcome and suggestions will be taken into account if anyone is just dying to say something to me. This goes for all stories! **

* * *

**Of a Father**

Words: 3,000

POV: Closed 3rd Person

It had been well hammered in the mind of Jack Fenton that ghosts were evil. They fed on the fear of humans and so they were inherently evil, no matter what decade they came from or which region of the world they had resided in, it was a statement of fact so bold and so clear that it needed no further clarification: ghosts were evil.

So then why was he questioning this fact when he saw Phantom that morning?

He had been the only one at home when the emergency call came through on the Fenton Hotline. It was early Saturday morning, the Fenton residence had a lazy air around it, as if there was a spell put on the normally chaotic household. Maddie had left the house to go shopping for bread, cheese, milk, and lug nuts. Jack knew not to expect her anytime soon since Maddie's equal of shoe shopping was at the hardware store goggling at wrenches and blowtorches instead of pumps and Pumas.

Jazz was at a friend's house, though Jack had his suspicions about this 'friend' of hers. She looked more dressed up than usual when she traipsed down the stairs in a skirt, blouse, high heels, and hair done up prettily with her face masked in makeup. Jack commented on how beautiful she looked and she thanked him, giving him a peck on the cheek before she left the house. He would have to sick Danny on her later.

Speaking of Danny, Jack hadn't heard from him all morning. He guessed that his son was sleeping in his room. The concerned father had heard Danny entering the house near three o'clock in the morning last night. He had been in bed and decided to not try to reprimand Danny that night. He and his wife had done it so many times before that it seemed not worth the effort, plus he had been tired and went right back to sleep after he heard the door shut.

Jack had been on the couch, crafting his newest needlepoint creation when the Fenton Hotline went off and he answered the call. A ghost had been reported being seen downtown and they needed someone to come and stop it. Jack gently laid down his needlepoint, tucking the needle in the canvas so as not to let someone stick themselves if they moved it, and hastened to the G.A.V. with enthusiasm. It was not often he went on a ghost hunt by himself and he could just picture the look on Maddie's face when he brought a ghost back home. With any luck, he would catch that Phantom punk.

Jack arrived in time to see Phantom was there, and that the other ghost had just disappearing into the thermos that Phantom always seemed to carry around. Ignoring the obvious plagiarism of his invention, Jack pouted, feeling cheated that he didn't even get a chance to catch the ghost, but then he realized that Phantom was there, unguarded because the ghost had not seen him yet, and armed himself with a bazooka.

The gun whined slowly as it charged a shot, Jack taking careful aim at Phantom's back side. He had been practicing his aim lately and was getting better, but he still didn't want to miss. He was about to pull the trigger when the gun suddenly went dead on him. He pulled a loose trigger, the clicking sounding empty, like he was trying to fire a toy. The sound made Phantom turn around and spy him with those eerie green eyes of his. Jack was suddenly very nervous with the ghost so close and he so defenseless, but Phantom made no move, almost as if he was waiting to see what Jack would do.

Taking the quiet moment to look down at the gun, Jack saw that it hadn't been charged.

"Shoot," he said, running a hand through his short black hair in frustration.

He looked back up at Phantom, who had moved slightly from floating in the air to sitting on a nearby roof, his legs dangling over the edge as he looked at Jack with a questioning gaze.

The ghost hunter wondered why this picture felt so weird, then he realized that Phantom wasn't attacking him. Jack, for some reason, felt indignation at being so thoroughly ignored.

"What?" he shouted up at the ghost kid, waving a fist at him angrily. "Am I not good enough to fight?"

Phantom cocked his head to the side, frowning at the man.

"Why would I fight you?" he asked, that voice of his echoing around the air and drifting down to Jack, making his spine tingle.

"Because, I'm Jack Fenton!"

The ghost smirked and shook his head in humor, making Jack even more confused and angrier. This kid was making fun of him, not seeing him as a threat at all. It was hurtful to be dissed by your prey, to not be a threat to the things you hated and hunted, it meant you had nothing on your side to win against a ghost. The only way to get at least a foothold in any fight was for you to inflict your own fear in your opponent.

"I'm sorry, but that's not a reason," Phantom said, staying where he was but leaning closer to see Jack better. "There are probably a lot of Jack Fentons in the world, why would I want to fight all of them?"

A joke? Did Phantom just try to crack a joke? A bad one yes, but a joke nonetheless. Jack blinked in confusion, bringing his fist down to his side and sighing in defeat, looking at the ground with his fractured pride on his broad shoulders.

"Even if I wanted to fight you, you're unarmed," Phantom said, making Jack bring his head up to look at the ghost again. "I would never fight an unarmed man."

"How moral of you," Jack rolled his eyes, knowing that the ghost was lying; they always went for the kill. "And who taught you that?"

"My dad did," Phantom answered automatically.

Jack was taken aback. A ghost that remembered its parentage was rare, almost unheard of. On top of that, for that ghost to put its human morals to work after death was completely unheard of, but it was a loose theory. If ghosts worked off of memories of their death, then it would be valid to say that some ghosts would remember what they were taught and that would pass down to the ghost after death. For some reason, the human thoughts of morality and right and wrong decisions seemed to bypass this transferring of memory, but it did happen with other aspects of the dead person's mind: anger, fear, and sorrow being the three most recognized emotions of transference.

Jack's brain went into overdrive, thinking hard and fast like a train on a track that had no breaks. The theories that he knew and the facts that he knew twisted into new theories and facts in his mind, forming a hypothesis.

If he took into account that Phantom was still a child, that would mean he would still look to his father as a father-figure and would still be learning from him at the time of his death. Therefore, whatever Phantom had learned from his father would be transferred to the ghost.

He looked back up at Phantom and guessed the specter to be at around fourteen; old enough to know anger, but not nearly old enough to know true anger and sorrow unless Phantom had had a very hard and demeaning life before his death. Whatever his parents had taught him, would be the only things that would pass on to his ghost.

The ghosts of children were usually very mindless since they were not old enough to fully experience life. Very young ghosts were very deadly since they lacked understanding of death and were, therefore, very dangerous to be around if one had a tantrum. Teenage ghosts were rare since most teens seemed to not become ghosts, but when they did, their anger could be very dire. The immaturity of a teenager ruled the ghost with too many strong emotions at the time of death, but Phantom seemed different.

He wasn't angry, he had a smile on his face most of the time that Jack had seen him around when he was not fighting another ghost. Phantom was not sorrowful, not looking for a life that he could not return to. Phantom was never in any kind of emotional pain that would drive a ghost's instincts to put fear into people and to be a nuisance.

That still puzzled Jack since he could not explain it, even the most moral of people, when they were alive, turned into mindless, hurting ghosts. It was the fact that was so clear it did not need definition: ghosts were evil! End of story, there was nothing more to say.

Ghosts were evil!

But why not this one?

Why was Phantom not attacking him right now? The ghost was certainly strong enough to kill him and he was unarmed. Was it that moral of not harming an unarmed man that kept him from doing so? Ghosts were driven by their thoughts; they would not go against what they thought was right and not do what they thought was wrong, no matter how twisted the thought process. Could Phantom _not _go against this moral that, for some strange, inexplicable reason, kept with him in death?

"Did I say something wrong?" Phantom asked, looking confused at Jack.

It was enough to bring the man from his thoughts.

"You want me to believe that you have the ability to process the morals that your father taught you?" he didn't sound challenging, he was intrigued and it was a simple question with a not-so-simple answer.

"I respect my father. I admire him, why would I go against him?" Phantom said.

Another question came to Jack: did Phantom think that he was still alive? The way he used his father in the present tense suggested so, but his father might still be alive, or a ghost himself. If that was the case, then did Phantom still interact with his father, both as ghosts? Could the ghost of the father, in some way, still teach the ghost of the son? Did such familial ties last in death?

Jack looked up at ask another question, but Phantom was gone.

"Well how do you like that?" he murmured, feeling empty handed despite all of the knowledge he had just gleaned from a few short minutes from the ghost.

He packed up his uncharged bazooka and left downtown, heading back to Fenton Works in a haze of thought as his mind circled the possibilities that had just come to him. After nearly running over the neighbor's family cat, Jack was fully in the present as he pulled up to his driveway. He found the door unlocked and saw Danny sitting on the couch in the den, watching T.V. but he didn't seem to be very interested in it.

The teen looked up to see his father enter the house. Jack couldn't read the emotion on his son's face, but he saw curiosity in his eyes.

"Hey Dad," Danny greeted, picking up the remote and turning down the volume to better converse with him, "where did you go? You weren't here when I woke up."

"Ghost alert," Jack said, placing the large gun on the couch and sitting next to Danny.

"Did you catch it?"

"No, that Phantom kid did."

"Oh," Danny left it at that.

Phantom seemed to be an odd piece of conversation between Danny and his parents. He never really spoke about the ghost, but it always seemed like he had something to say when the subject was brought up. The Zone knew that Jazz had an opinion about everything, and Phantom seemed to be at the top of her list to defend. Jack rubbed his eyes, becoming tired just thinking about the long conversations that he could never understand with his daughter.

"Tired?" Danny asked him.

"No, just thinking. You're the one that should be tired."

Danny stiffened next to him, the talk now eddying into waters that Jack knew he had to address at some point this morning.

"I heard you come in pretty late last night," Jack stated, nothing behind his tone to suggest that he was mad or upset, but Danny's shoulders slumped all the same as if he could detect something else there.

"I'm sorry," Danny began to say, but he was only halfway through when his father cut him off.

"I'm tired of hearing 'sorry' come from you Danny," Jack's tone was now harsh, his frustration leaking out from him. "Almost every night you do this. It drives me up the wall and your mother is always worrying about you. Every time you say you're sorry but you do it again just the same. I don't want apologies or excuses, I want explanations."

It was the first time that Jack had said this to his son. Maddie was always firm about punishing Danny, hoping that the mere threat of a grounding would keep him from staying out late, but it obviously wasn't working. Jack had been puzzled at first when Danny's odd behavior had started, but now he was just mad. He wanted to know why more than anything else right now.

When Danny was not forthcoming with an answer, Jack sighed and slumped into the back of the couch.

"Do you respect me son?"

Danny looked up at his father in surprise, his young eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. Jack was a little surprised himself when he had asked the question, but he wanted to know. The way that Phantom had said that he respected his father . . . it was something he wanted. Phantom respected his father even in death, and Jack was clinging to the fact that Phantom was truthful to him to make this true. Even if Phantom had been putting on an act, he was convincing enough to make Jack wonder himself about his status as a father.

"Of course I do," Danny said, almost looking hurt that Jack would have to ask that question, then he licked his lips in thought, seeming to decide on what next to say very carefully. "I respect and admire you, I would never go against you."

Deja-vu hit Jack like a steamroller. He looked at Danny wonderingly, trying to put where he had heard those words before. Danny looked expectantly at him, searching for something in his face, but after a few minutes of silence, Danny lowered his head in defeat and what looked like sadness.

"How long am I grounded for?" he asked, his voice sounding a bit depressed.

"Two weeks," Jack said, still trying to place the words.

Hadn't Phantom said those words? It sure jogged his recent memory and he was pretty sure that Phantom had said them. Why hadn't he recorded it? It would have saved him a lot of head ache.

"Danny, were you downtown this morning?" Jack asked.

"No, I was here, sleeping. I woke up and you were gone, remember?"

Jack hummed, but was not convinced. How else would Danny have heard that conversation? Unless Danny had never been there.

But how-?

"Jack! I need help getting these sacks in the lab!" Maddie called out through the open door, her arms full of brown paper sacks and plastic draw bags.

"Danny, get the groceries, I've got the rest," Jack ordered.

"Yes sir," Danny said quietly, but was smiling faintly as he rose from the couch and up to Maddie to take the sack from her hands.

As Danny passed him again to head to the kitchen, Maddie looked at Jack expectantly.

"How long is he grounded?" she asked him.

"Two weeks, he already knows."

Maddie nodded and frowned.

"I wish he would stop doing this," she said, sounding tired. "I was up most of the night thinking about him."

"I know Maddie, but we'll keep trying. There was a ghost alert today."

"I know, I heard about it on the radio. Did you take the call?"

Jack smiled, glad he was able to distract his wife before speaking.

"Yes, and boy do I have more stuff to blather on about!"

"I can't wait to hear it. Is Jazz back yet?"

"No, oh, that reminds me. Dan-o!"

"Yeah?" Danny asked, coming into the room again.

"I want you to spy on your sister, wheedle any information you can about this new 'friend' of hers."

"Wouldn't that be prying into her private life?" Danny asked with a raised brow. "The one she keeps screaming at us about because we never let her have one?"

"That's the one!" Jack nodded.

"I don't know Dad. . ."

Jack pulled out his wallet and dug out a twenty, putting it in front of Danny's astonished face.

"How much do you want to know and when do you want to know it?" Danny asked, swiping the money with a conspirator-like smile.

Jack heard Maddie scoff and felt her eyes roll at them as she turned to get the rest of the sacks from the car.

"Keep me informed," Jack straightened and walked out the door, Danny trailing behind as he pocketed the money.

"Yes sir," he saluted and went to help Maddie.

Jack was glad that the tension between them was gone, but still, the way Danny had smirked at him, the words he said. It nagged his mind to no end and he wanted to recall why it was bugging him, but it just wasn't surfacing.

"So Jack, what did you want to talk about?" Maddie asked as she loaded his arms with sacks to go down to the lab, breaking his train of thought.

"Oh, Maddie you won't believe what I found out today about the ghost kid!"


	2. 2- Heart Attack

**Hey there! I'm back with another shorty for you guys to read. I will get to your questions and such as soon as I can, but there's this thing called real life and I got to keep a job in order to live this life. Vacation time is coming up though so maybe I can take a long break from everything and try to write just a little. My long stories are on hold for a bit though and I want to concentrate on shorts for a little while. But don't worry, I hate to leave things unfinished. Enjoy! **

**Heart Attack**

Written August 7, 2012 Finished June 27, 2013

It had been a dim, dull day. It was Wednesday, the middle of the week, the hurdle that had to be passed to get to the ever, sought-after Friday that eventually lead into the weekend. This particular bump in the week seemed rather large to one Daniel Fenton. Unlike his classmates who would be going places, hanging out with their friends, or generally doing nothing on the weekend, Danny would be doing what he did every day—catching ghosts who terrorized the public.

The infamous Phantom was his cover, the face he dawned on when the town needed him to protect it, but as of late, he was seeing way too much of Phantom in the mirror and way to less of Fenton. His parents were seeing too much of Phantom as well since they were there every time, blasting at him and threatening to tear him apart molecule by molecule. He knew the school was not seeing much of Fenton either from the numerous phone messages left on the answering machine at home. If this kept up, he knew he would be suspended, which was odd since he was more in trouble from lack of attendance. You would think they would want him in school.

These thoughts were pushing through his mind like a train trying to upend a snow bank when the bell rang shrilly in the building. He had managed to get to the class room early, only because Skulker had managed to throw him in here and tear up the floor slightly with skid marks. Luckily, there was no obvious damage and Danny moved the desks back to hide the floor as best he could and took a seat as he waited for the rest of the class to show up and get this one hour of boredom over and done with.

There was a thing about being a half ghost that Danny could not quite get over: life essences. There was just something about being a ghost that allowed Danny to sense the life of other people. It was actually rather helpful; he knew when someone with hostile intentions was coming around the corner (mainly Dash with another D- on his history paper) or know when someone was upset and stressed. He could also tell how young or old someone was. Brand new babies were almost blinding to him, their life was so new it was almost like staring at the sun. As a person grew older, their light dimmed, the effect of ageing.

It was better for Danny to think of it as a battery instead of a life. If he did that, he would feel guilty for each one that was snuffed out due to natural causes. Much against his will, and while being tied up with the Fenton Fisher, Danny had talked to Jazz about it and she suggested to think of it as a battery dying instead of a life. She said he couldn't feel guilty about natural causes for a person's death. People died all of the time and there was nothing to stop it blah, blah, blah. He had stopped listening at some point, but he took what he did listen to and put it into action. It did help keep his brain focused on other things, but he was still aware of every living thing in the school. All of their batteries were fully charged and glowed slightly to his eyes.

As the kids filed in, Danny took note of their auras and the shifts that happened just between the time they sat down and the time when someone sat down next to them. Some kids went from bored to not caring as they laid their head on their desks, much like Danny was doing now and he sympathized with them. Other kids just took the fact that they were here and got their books out to use for the class.

When Paulina walked in, it was a different result. All of the girls looked up at once, hoping that she would pick them to sit by and maybe her popularity would rub off on them. The guys were all glancing at her or putting their heads down to hide blushing faces. Sam walked in next and Paulina's aura grew very dark and scolding, some of the other kids took no notice of her as she sat down by Danny but still, others, mainly the guys, were looking at her and their auras flared bright red, almost as red as when Paulina walked in.

"Hey Danny," Sam greeted as she opened her book, oblivious to the shifting emotions in the room that Danny was noticing.

Sam's aura had no change from that morning, despite walking in behind Paulina. She was her normal white calm self and he thanked her in his mind for sitting next to him. He didn't know what he would do if one of those hormonal boys shared the same breathing space as him. Tucker bounced in next, fiddling with his PDA as always.

Tucker was like Danny's rock when it came to the auras. His was strong and it took something very harsh and dramatic to change his aura from its calm and energetic blue (like changing the school menu for example) but all in all, Tucker's aura almost never changed since he was so positive most of the time, or at least he was so oblivious and air-headed that he stayed positive because he didn't know what was going on half of the time.

Tucker took the seat behind Danny and promptly ignored the entrance of Dash. This was another interesting thing as the dynamic shifted yet again.

Most of the girls were infatuated with him while the rest of the girls (mainly Sam) were disgusted by him and ignored him. The boys' auras shifted into fear with the exception of an otherwise occupied Tucker. Even Dash's football buddies were scared of him, namely Kwan who was supposed to be the quarterback's best friend.

Danny found it odd that they were friends with the jock only out of fear and because they were the football team. It was as if it was some unspoken rule that they had to be friends. What was even more interesting was that Paulina and her friends also feared him. Danny watched this shift transpire every day, or at least when he was in class, and frowned every time. Why Paulina feared her boyfriend was beyond him; he knew Dash picked and beat up half of the male population in school, him included unfortunately, but he had never thought Dash would harm a girl.

Despite what people thought of him, Dash's aura to Danny told him otherwise, but it seemed that Paulina and her friends didn't know that and Dash seemed to grow stronger every day from their fear just like Nocturne received his strength from dreams, or how Ember grew stronger when people chanted her name.

Just like before, Danny frowned at this as he felt the room shift into fear of Dash. He didn't feel his own fear, just his own annoyance from the fact that everyone feared him. To Danny, it was irrational. Dash was one teenager when a whole world of ghosts was just a dimension away and was planning on taking over this world on an hourly schedule. You would think most kids would be more concerned about a war with inter-dimensional beings who could fly through walls, turn invisible, and take over a human body without trying hard, then the class bully and his very meaty, very human, very-non-ghostly fist.

Then another factor entered the room. Mr. Lancer brandished the scene with his arms full of papers. All occupants in the room cringed when they saw the teacher with the graded tests. All fear was now focused on Lancer and the impending grades. Even the students who normally did well on their tests were somewhat fearful of their grades. Lancer was a tough teacher and this test had been more challenging than the ones before it.

Danny, however, was not very fearful of the tests, though that certainly would have been the concern if he had not noticed something else. Lancer's life essence, his aura, was off. It was flickering, like a firefly trying to keep its light on. Danny could also see the distress on Lancer's face, though the teacher did hide it well. Danny watched the teacher lay the papers down and put a hand to his shoulder, but Danny could tell something else was wrong. He gripped the desk tightly as he saw pain cross Lancer's face as his aura darkened considerably before ranging back into a somewhat normal spectrum.

"Mr. Lancer, are you alright?"

His question effectively silenced the talking students who were looking at him with weird looks and some looked up at Lancer for an answer and tried to find something wrong with the elder man.

"I'm fine Daniel," Mr. Lancer said after he blinked the surprise out of his eyes and wiped it from his face. "Just some shoulder pains from sleeping wrong."

It was a lie, Danny's senses flared when Lancer's aura dimmed again. Sam was about to say something when Danny got out of his seat and approached the teacher.

"Sit," he demanded, guiding Lancer to his desk chair.

His voice surprised the teacher, and his classmates. It was a voice he reserved for Phantom when he needed it, and right now, it was needed here.

"Danny, what's going on?" Sam asked, getting up from her desk and Tucker looked up from his PDA.

"Someone needs to call 911, he's having a heart attack," Danny said.

"Danny, are you sure?" Sam asked him, looking doubtful. "He looks alright to me."

"Fenton's lost his marbles," Dash shouted, making most of the class laugh with him because of their fear of their non-participation.

"Mr. Baxter, I will not tolerate such outbursts in my class!" Lancer fought Danny to stand up and shout at Dash.

At that moment, the teacher clutched his chest in pain, moaning as he fell to the floor. Danny was able to catch him before Mr. Lancer hit the floor and lay him out gently on the cold tiles.

"OMG!" Starr cried out at seeing her unconscious teacher. "Did he just, like, have a heart attack?"

Sam was busy calling 911 while Tucker was helping Danny check Mr. Lancer. Most of the kids began to panic and call 911 themselves, others ran out of the door to get the nurse, still others just sat in silence, not sure what to do.

Danny was worried. He knew that people recovered from heart attacks, but Lancer's life force was fading rapidly. The heart shuddered un-rhythmically as it tried to get back to some sense of normality. Lancer's breathing was slow and his face was very pale.

"He looks bad," Tucker spoke up. "Is he going to make it?"

"I don't know," Danny said. "Where is that ambulance?"

"They should be here soon," Sam said, joining them on the floor. "Is he flickering?"

"Badly," Danny said, putting his hand on Lancer's arm. "I'm trying to ground him but it's getting difficult."

"Ground him?" Tucker asked.

"Keep him in the realm of the living," Sam clarified in a dry way. "Danny's trying to keep Lancer alive long enough for the paramedics to get here."

"I don't think even they can save him," Danny said, sweat beginning to show on his face. "I can't hold him."

"Don't strain yourself," Sam said, grabbing her friend's arm to keep him upright. "If you're not careful you could be pulled away with Lancer."

"We don't know that," Danny hissed at her.

"Do you want to chance it?" Sam hissed back, glaring at him as she put a hand on his shoulder.

She instantly pulled back. Danny's shirt felt like ice. He was growing more and more remote as he tried to hold on to Mr. Lancer to keep him from dying.

"Dude, maybe it's his time," Tucker said, his voice quiet and careful.

Danny said nothing, the other two weren't even sure if he had heard them.

Lancer's breathing was growing more and more shallow, the silent pauses between growing further apart each time.

"Danny, let him go," Sam said reluctantly. "I don't think you can save him."

Danny's face was strained, his eyes glowing brightly, almost white. His teeth were clenched tightly and his skin was lathered in sweat as if he had run across the Sahara Desert.

"Dude, enough," Tucker tried to pry Danny's hands from their teacher, but Danny was stuck like a vise to the body.

Outside they heard the ambulance sirens blaring.

"Danny, the medics are here, you need to let go," Sam touched him again, reluctantly, and hissed when his cold body made contact with her hands. "Let go!"

The shouting in his ear made him flinch. He shook his head.

"If I let go he dies," he mumbled starting to shake.

"Danny, it's his time," Tucker pushed on Danny's chest, rocking the other teen onto his rear. "We can't lose you too."

Danny's hands were forced from Lancer as Tucker pushed him. He fell on his back, blinking the spots out of his eyes and breathing hard. He had gone too far into grounding Lancer back into the living and nearly went to the other side himself. He had been drawing more and more remote from the living plain that when he had been pushed back, the living standards of his body hit him hard and fast. He felt like having a heart attack himself.

"Danny, are you okay?"

He opened his eyes to see Sam hovering over him. His head was in her lap, his body stretched out on the floor of the class room. He could hear the paramedics working on Lancer, but he knew it was a lost cause: Lancer was gone.

Danny's body sagged on the floor, tears coming to his eyes. He wasn't able to save Lancer. He had died right in front of him. Why had Tucker pushed him? If he had just held on a little longer, Lancer might still be alive.

"Danny?"

He looked up at Sam. Then his eyes drifted to Tucker who was leaning over his right side.

"You okay dude?" Tucker asked, about to put a hand on his best friend's arm.

But the punch to his face stopped that idea.

"Danny!" Sam shouted more in pure shock then anger.

Danny was now sitting up, his fist still straight from where he had punched Tucker in the nose. Tucker was doubled over on the floor, holding his hands over his face and moaning, not use to the pain like Danny was on a daily biases.

"Don't you _ever _make decisions for me again," Danny's voice was low and threatening, deeper then both Sam and Tucker ever remember it being.

It made Sam shiver and Tucker pause, staring at his best friend with wide eyes. Danny got to his feet, seemingly alright and walked out, not bothering to look at anyone as he left the room.


	3. 3-Protector

**This may end rather quickly, but I felt it was ready to post. May do a rewrite later. **

**Protector**

Written November 11, 2012. Finished June 27, 2013.

"Hello," Vlad spoke into the phone with a bored feeling of trepidation.

His caller ID had warned him it was the Fenton household on the other line. That only left one of two likely possibilities. The two Fenton children were not an option since they would both rather drink battery acid then talk to him willingly. Maddie might be calling him, but it would only be to chew him out on some sort of inappropriate incident regarding his last visit to the house. That left only that oaf Jack and his annoying voice.

So, naturally, he was surprised when it turned out to be Danny.

"Vlad, help."

Vlad paused on his end, his eyes wide and his mind blank. He was unable to understand that last word. It had never been issued from Danny's lips to his ears before. Then again, Daniel had been known to be tricky before.

"Daniel, if this is some sort of trick!" Vlad left the threat unfinished, his anger rising to the forefront.

"No! No trick!" Danny yelled, sounding frantic. "Please, I think I killed him."

Now Vlad was all ears. Danny would never joke around with something as heavy as death.

"Who Daniel? Where are you exactly?"

"At home, in the lab. Oh dear god, I think I killed him. I didn't mean too. I just wanted him to stop."

"Daniel, get yourself together," Vlad said as he rose from his desk, intent on getting his jacket and calling the car forward. "Who are you talking about? A ghost?"

"She's not waking up. Jazz, please! Wake up!"

Vlad dropped the phone and transformed. Daniel was too far gone into shock to be of any use and it was obvious that something dire had happened at the house. There was no time to waste on getting a car ready to drive. A simple thought was all that was needed to transport himself to the front steps of the Fenton house.

The cold October air hit Vlad like a slap in the face. The wind blowing hard and the bleakness of the street obvious. It was coming from the house before him. He phased himself inside and sucked in a breath. The living room was in tatters, the couch in half, the stuffing spilling from the innards. All of the electronics had either shattered or completely combusted into small smoldering heaps of melted metal and circuitry.

"Technus?" Vlad wondered, then decided that was wrong.

The tech-loving ghost prized technology. He wouldn't destroy it like this; it would go against his obsession. As he walked to the kitchen to get to the lab, he turned back to human, on the off chance that one of the adults would see him and pull a gun out on him, and noticed the damage of the kitchen as well. All of the technology had been destroyed the same way, the furniture in broken shards. The door to the basement/lab was open and sad sounds were heard coming from below.

When he got to the top of the stairs he had to swallow the bile in his throat. Jack laid like a broken puppet in the corner, blood all around him. Maddie laid further away from him, unconscious he hoped, and Danny was sobbing over the broken form of his sister in the middle of the lab floor. Vlad rushed to him first.

He moved around Danny and reached for a feel of Jazz's pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief when he found one.

"Danny, it's okay," Vlad pulled Danny away from Jazz gently, speaking softly to him. "Danny hush, it's okay. Jazz is alive."

Danny swallowed, holding his breath in order to try and stop the sobs. He only seemed to half succeed, but it was enough for him to become coherent.

"She's okay?" he asked Vlad voice breaking from his sore throat.

"She will be once we get her to a hospital. Your mother too, and you don't look so good yourself."

The boy had blood all over him, bruises and scrapes covered his face along with a sporting black eye. It also looked like a few fingers were broken considering how blue and bent they were. Vlad took one of the teen's hands into his own to look at them.

"How did this happen?" Vlad asked.

"Dad slammed the door on them," Danny said, curling up on himself.

Vlad gently gave Danny back his hand then looked at Jack in the corner. He was dead, there was no doubt about that. A ghost always knew the living from the dead. The only question was, did Danny do it? There was no time to ask. Jazz, Maddie, and Danny all needed medical attention.

Vlad called for an ambulance, keeping Danny in his line of vision. He reported a ghost attack on the Fenton house, which it certainly looked like. Suspicion would not fall on Danny for this. It might on Phantom though, but Vlad would come to that hurtle when it was time.


End file.
